GRANDFATHER FINDS PERRINE
One year had passed since Perrine had arrived at Maraucourt on that
radiant Sunday morning. What a miserable lonely little girl she had been
then.
The day was just as radiant now, but what a change in Perrine, and, be
it said, in the whole village also. She was now a lovely girl of
fifteen. She knew she was loved and loved for herself, and this is what
gave the deep look of happiness to her eyes.
And the village! No one would have recognized it now. There were new
buildings, pretty cottages, and a hospital commanding a view of the
surrounding country. Near the factories were two handsome red brick
buildings. These were the creches where the little children, whose
mothers were working in the factories, were kept. All the little
children had their meals there, and many of them slept there. It was a
home for them.
M. Vulfran had bought up all the old houses, the tumble-down hovels and
huts, and had built new cottages in their places. There was a large
restaurant built where the men and women could get a dinner for eleven
cents, the meal consisting of a soup, stew or roast, bread and cider.
Every little cottage, for which the tenant paid one hundred francs a
year, had its own tiny garden in which to grow vegetables for the
family.
In the road leading to the chateau there was now a fine recreation
ground, which was greatly patronized after the factories had closed.
There were merry-go-rounds, swings, bowling alleys and a stand for the
musicians who played every Saturday and Sunday, and of course on every
holiday. This public park of amusement was used by the people of all
five villages. Monsieur Vulfran had thought it better to have one place
of reunion and recreation. If his people all met together to enjoy their
leisure hours, it would establish good relations and a bond of
friendship between them. At the end of the grounds there was a fine
library with a reading and writing room.
M. Vulfran's relations thought that he had gone mad. Did he intend to
ruin himself? That is to say, ruin them? Some steps ought to be taken to
prevent him from spending his fortune in this manner. His fondness for
that girl was a proof that he was losing his mind. That girl did not
know what she was doing! All their animosity was centered on her. What
did it matter to her that his fortune was being thrown away? But if
Perrine had all the relations against her, she knew that she had M.
Vulfran's friendship, and the family doctor, Doctor Ruchon, Mlle.
Belhomme and Fabry all adored her. Since the doctor had seen that it
was the "little girl" who had been the means of his patient exerting
this wonderful moral and intellectual energy, his attitude to her
expressed the greatest respect and affection. In the doctor's eyes,
Perrine was a wonderful little girl.
"She can do a great deal more than I can," he said, shaking his gray
head.
And Mlle. Belhomme, how proud she was of her pupil! As to Fabry, he was
on the best of terms with her. He had been so closely connected with her
in the good work that had been done, for Fabry had superintended
everything.
It was half-past twelve. Fabry had not yet arrived. M. Vulfran, usually
so calm, was getting impatient. Luncheon was over and he had gone into
his study with Perrine; every now and again he walked to the window and
listened.
"The train must be late," he murmured.
Perrine wanted to keep him away from the window, for there were many
things going on outside in the park about which she did not wish him to
know. With unusual activity, the gardeners were putting great pots of
flowers on the steps and in front of the house. Flags were flying from
the recreation grounds, which could be seen from the windows.
At last the wheels of a carriage were heard on the drive.
"There's Fabry," said M. Vulfran. His voice expressed anxiety, but
pleasure at the same time.
Fabry came in quickly. He also appeared to be in a somewhat excited
state. He gave a look at Perrine which made her feel uneasy without
knowing why.
"I got your telegram," said M. Vulfran, "but it was so vague. I want to
be sure. Speak out."
"Shall I speak before mademoiselle?" asked Fabry, glancing at Perrine.
"Yes, if it is as you say."
It was the first time that Fabry had asked if he could speak before
Perrine. In the state of mind in which she was suddenly thrown, this
precaution only made her the more anxious.
"The person whom we had lost trace of," said Fabry, without looking at
Perrine, "came on to Paris. There she died. Here is a copy of the death
certificate. It is in the name of Marie Doressany, widow of Edmond
Vulfran Paindavoine."
With trembling hands the blind man took the paper.
"Shall I read it to you?" asked Fabry.
"No, if you have verified the names we will attend to that later. Go
on."
"I not only got the certificate; I wanted to question the man whom they
call Grain-of-Salt. She died in a room in his house. Then I saw all
those who were present at the poor woman's funeral. There was a street
singer called the Baroness and an old shoemaker called Carp. It was the
miserable existence which she had been forced to live that had finally
killed her. I even saw the doctor who attended her, Dr. Cendrier. He
wanted her to go to the hospital, but she would not be parted from her
daughter. Finally, to complete my investigations, they sent me to a
woman who buys rags and bones. Her name is La Rouquerie. I could not see
her until yesterday, as she had been out in the country."
Fabry paused. Then for the first time he turned to Perrine and bowed
respectfully.
"I saw Palikare, mademoiselle," he said. "He is looking very well."
Perrine had risen to her feet. For some moments she stood listening,
dazed. Then her eyes filled with tears.
"I then had to find out what had become of the little daughter,"
continued Fabry. "This ragpicker told me that she had met her in the
Chantilly woods and that she was dying of hunger. It was her own donkey
that she sold to the ragpicker who found her."
"Tell me," cried M. Vulfran, turning his sightless eyes towards Perrine,
who was trembling from head to foot, "why this little girl did not say
who she was? You understand how deeply a little girl can feel, so can
you explain this?"
Perrine took a few steps towards him.
"Tell me why she does not come into my arms ... her grandfather's arms."
"Oh, grandpapa," cried Perrine, throwing her arms about his neck.